the many letters of condolence
that poured in upon her, and then considered what she had better do.

Miss Cronin pleaded persistently for an immediate return to Paris.
What was the good of staying on in London now? The winter was dreary
in London. The flat in Paris was far more charming and elegant than
any hotel. Beryl had all her lovely things about her there. Her chief
friends were in Paris. She could see them quietly at home. And it was
quite impossible for her to go about London now that she was plunged
in mourning. What would they do there? She, Miss Cronin, could go on as
usual, of course. She never did anything special. But Beryl would surely
be bored to death living the life of a hermit in Claridge's.

Miss Van Tuyn listened to all that old Fanny had to say, and made no
attempt to refute her arguments or reply to her exhortations. She merely
remarked that she would think the matter over.

"But what is there to think over, darling?" said Miss Cronin, lifting
her painted eyebrows. "There is nothing to keep us here. You never go to
the Wallace Collection now."

"Do please allow me to be the judge of what I want to do with my life,
Fanny," said Miss Van Tuyn, curtly. "When I wish to pack up I'll tell
you."

And old Fanny collapsed like a pricked bladder. She could not understand
Beryl any longer. The girl seemed to be quite beyond her reach. She
thought of Alick Craven and of the man in the blue overcoat with the
strange name. Nicolas Arabian. She had seen neither of them again. Beryl
never mentioned them. But Fanny was sure that one, or both, of them held
her in London. Something must be in the wind, something dangerous to any
companion. She felt on the threshold of an alarming, perhaps disastrous,
change. As she went nowhere she knew nothing of Beryl's visit to Rose
Tree Gardens and of the gossip it had set going in certain circles in
London. But she had never been able to forget the impression she had had
when Beryl had introduced her to the man with the melting brown eyes.
Beryl was surely in love. Yet she did not look happy. Certainly her
father's death might have upset her. But Miss Cronin did not think that
was sufficient to account for the change in the girl. She had something
on her mind besides that. Miss Cronin was certain of it. Beryl's cool
self-assurance was gone. She was restless. She brooded. She seemed quite
unable to settle to anything or to come to any decision.

Old Fanny began to be seri